


Headcase

by lorrcan



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Attachment, Flashbacks, Human Experimentation, Multi, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-06-07 17:34:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6817192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorrcan/pseuds/lorrcan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well, uh, Mrs. Joseph called me a few minutes ago.  They found him.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Some Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You don't restore 'The Last Supper' by filling in the missing bits - you preserve. You accept the material that has somehow survived."  
> -David Chipperfield

It’s Wednesday. That means it’s been four days since he’s last seen his friends at the apartment. According to the news he can hear from his bed, they’re looking for him; police got involved—probably Debby or Tyler (mostly likely Tyler). But there is nothing to point them in any direction of where he went, as if he vanished into thin air. He is suddenly getting violent déjà vu. 

He woke up in this bed, shirtless and pants-less, lying on stomach. When he tried to move, he screamed as loud as possible, pain ripping through him like never before. He was calmed by a woman with fiery orange hair and told him he had an injured spine, whatever that meant. 

He’s been numb, either by pain pills or pain itself, for the past four days. 

Dallon has become his caregiver. That’s his partner’s name, Dallon. Dallon feeds him soup and noodles in small quantities, gives him water with a straw, and scoops ice cream laced with Benadryl to help him sleep. The pain pills give him really bad hallucinations, so he tries to spend as much time asleep as possible, just to make his life a little more bearable. Josh comes to find he likes Dallon. 

“Hey, Josh, you awake?” 

Hayley’s the girl with orange hair. She’s here to check up on Josh, tell him if he can move, can sit up, can sleep on his back. 

“Yeah,” he croaks out. 

She turns on the nightstand’s lamp, sets a bowl of food down, and sits cross legged on the floor. “How you feelin’?” she asks, softly petting his hair, smoothing down the fly-away pieces. 

“I miss my friends,” he whispers. 

Sympathy, the simple emotion, becomes complex on her features. “I know. M’tryin’ to convince Dal to letcha talk to them, let ‘em know you’re okay and gonna come home soon, but he’s bein’ stubborn.” 

The way she talks, like she’s speaking with a little kid, reminds him of how he talks to Tyler. It’s calming in certain ways, almost demeaning, but he’s not gonna complain at all. That hurts too much. 

“Are you feelin’ up to some food? Dal said you’ve been sleeping all day.” 

He’s not, but he’s cold and wants to be treated like a helpless child that needs a home. “Can you help me sit up?” 

Her eyes almost bug out of her head, jaw hanging open, but she regains composure impressively quick. “Sure, hang on.” 

She adjusts some pillows to be propped up on the headboard and lining the sides of the bed. Josh thinks it to be a bit much, but as she helps him up, he does slump in places that are dangerously close to the edge, but with a few gasp of pain and one position that almost sent him straight into a dizzy fit of tears, he’s leaned back on the headboard somewhat comfortably. Hayley pats some sweat away from his forehead with the cuff of her sleeve. 

“Better?” she asks. 

He blinks slowly. “Sure.” 

Sighing, she places herself at the edge of the bed, next to his thigh. She brings the bowl to her lap and stirs around the macaroni and cheese. “I crushed up some of your pain meds ‘cause Dal said you’ve been havin’ a hard time swallowing them whole.” 

They’re on the cold side, kinda slimy and unappetizing, but he’s hungrier than he originally thought. “No Benadryl?” 

“Ran out,” she chuckles. “Dal said he’s gonna give some to you later. Said he’s really come to like you.” 

He pauses at the offered forkful, but she literally presses it to his lips and waits until he takes it. “I barely talk to him.” 

“You took a beating for him, y’know. Not a lot of people do that for the people they supposedly hate.” 

“I don’t remember what happened.”

“Good.” Another scoop of food. “You looked like shit; kinda why we haven’t let you look in a mirror yet. Anyways, I think Dallon’s warmed up to you.” 

“Did you know who I was before this?” 

She shakes her head. “He’d mention someone who I’ve now realized is you, but never told me explicitly who you were until he dragged me here all the way from Florida. You’re not what I imagined.” 

His eyebrows furrow. “What did you imagine?” 

“I dunno… someone less soft.” 

“ _Soft_?” He would refute, but Hayley shoves more food down his throat. 

“You’re too kind for this job, Josh. It’s a good thing; I don’t call you soft as an insult, otherwise you get people like Dallon that shut their friends out in times they need help.” 

His mind goes right to Debby and how she’s been waiting for him to tell her what his guilt is. She’s so kindly sitting on the sidelines, walking carefully around Josh’s intentions and his choice to stay quiet. “Thanks… I guess.” 

The two make small talk until Josh is halfway through the macaroni, stomach full and queasy, but he keeps eating for Hayley and the need to feel human. Dallon comes in when he’s close to being done, and he has more ice cream. Josh may or may not groan in slight pain when he sees it. 

“You’ve been gone a while,” says Hayley. 

Dallon only nods, hands her the ice cream. “He needs to sleep.” 

She opens her mouth for a second, but it snaps shut with an audible clack. Dallon’s eyes darken, squint, and he takes the rest of the macaroni and cheese with him as he leaves. Josh feels Hayley tense up, fingers tightening around the bowl of ice cream and her pant leg. He feels he should say something, get to calm down, but she grumbles in the back of her throat and turns to Josh with dull eyes.

Neither Josh nor Hayley talk as he eats the second meal mixed with medicine and falls into a fitful sleep. 

(*)

Josh wakes up when Dallon drops a phone in his lap. He shakes out of the dream behind his eyelids, lifts his fuzzy head from his shoulder. Confused, he grasps the phone. 

“Two minutes,” says Dallon. “Make it worth it.” 

Josh has no clue what that exactly means, but a phone means contact, and with contact, he can hear Debby’s voice in a week since he’s heard her last. With shaky fingers, he dials Debby’s number and ignores how Dallon leans up against the wall and watches. 

“Hello?” 

“Debs?”

“ _Josh_!” she screams, her voice cracking. “Josh, hey, oh my god, you’re alive. Where are you? Are you okay?” 

“I can’t tell you where I am, but I’m okay. I’m just hurt a little bit.” Dallon scoffs. “Well, a lot, I guess. I’m gonna be home soon, though, okay? I dunno when exactly, but soon.”  
Josh is hoping with those words, he could be right, or give Dallon a reason to let him leave. 

“Wh-what’s going on, J? This doesn’t make sense!” 

“I know, I know. I’m gonna explain it, just not right now.” He hears her suppress a sob. “How’s, uh, how are you and Tyler?” 

“Fuck, J,” she whispers, hiccupping. “Tyler and Jenna went back to Ohio four days ago. He w-wouldn’t stop crying and he couldn’t sleep or eat and his parents got so worried about him.” 

His heart sinks deep into the cavern of his chest. 

“I’m so sorry.” She sniffs loudly. “Jenna said he isn’t doing any better than he was here and they had to take him to the hospital again ‘cause he wasn’t eating. J, fuck, I’m so sorry. God, I need you home right now.” 

He’s trembling, but he needs to yank off the lived in sweatshirt. It’s hot and sticky and he wants to hold his best friend close, let her cry on his shoulder. 

“In a few days, okay? I love you so much, Debs. I have to go.” 

“Wait—” 

He’s already clicked the end call button. 

Josh sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. The actually strength of his lungs isn’t much, but he’s trying his hardest to take one steady, pain-free breath. So far, it isn’t working out so much. 

“I’m sorry I got you in this, Josh,” his partner says. “I really am. It wasn’t supposed to go this way.” 

He nods his head. “I’d punch you if I could.” 

“I’d let you.” 

Josh looks up towards the ceiling, wondering how many more days he’ll have to stare at this thing. 

“Those injuries aren’t for nothing.” Dallon takes a long sip from his probably lukewarm beer. “That bitch was beating on me too long for me to help you in the long run.”

“None of that makes me feel better.” 

He cracks out a bitter laugh. “I’ll take you home in a few days, alright? Let you heal a little bit, get our stories straight.” 

Josh glances over to him. “Lying? I feel like I’ve lied enough lately.” 

Shrugging his shoulders, Dallon rolls his wrists, cracks his fingers in a melodic manner. “You’ve practically been one giant lie for the past six years.” 

He wants to sigh, but that’s not good. It sends stabs of pain through his whole abdomen. 

Dallon clears his throat. “So you wanted to ask questions? It seems to be long overdue.” 

“I don’t really want to know anything after what I just saw,” sighs Josh. “I mean, my own fucking legs don’t work right now and all I’m scared to know about what you guys did to Tyler.” He scoffs into a hand that rubs his temple. “I just want to know if anything will last one him.” 

“Depending on if they got what they wanted, no,” Dallon answers, “but his Night Face is connected to him, mentally and emotionally. It isn’t some freak connection where they can feel each other’s pain and emotions, but they share attributes that scare him and his Night Face equally.” 

Josh’s eyebrows furrow. “Night Face?” 

“It’s a replication of a part of Tyler which ever they so choose. Happy, sad, angry, scared—whatever they want or need. I don’t know what they chose, or if it worked, but I’m sure it did because they haven’t shown any interest in covering their tracks or coming after him.” 

Well, that’s sorta a plus in Josh’s book. “So… if it worked, he won’t be affected?” 

“Besides nightmares and whatever else mentally, he physically will be fine. They kept him in great health, even when he refused to eat or take meds.” Dallon sighs and gazes down at his beer like it’s not appetizing all of a sudden. “I’m sorry for using Tyler against you like I have. I guess I wasn’t sure how you could have a bond with him after what we did.”

Josh presses a few fingers to the center of his forehead. “It’s fine. He’s back at Ohio at the hospital, crying, scared probably.” 

“I really—”

“Dallon,” he says sternly, “I said it’s fine. You don’t understand the obligation I have to Tyler, and I don’t expect you to, but please, don’t apologize for something that you don’t want to.” 

He stays against the wall, frozen in time, as if he’s a poster hung with old tape and about to fall. After a few seconds, he nods his head without an apology and tells him to sleep well. 

(*)

Josh has regained in the strength in his legs exactly a week and a half after he was beat close to death. Hayley’s here, helping him chop up some tomatoes for homemade pizza, humming along to the radio with him. It’s peaceful besides the fact he isn’t friends with Hayley and that he hasn’t left a house in forever. 

“I’m so excited for this,” says Hayley with a smile. “It’s gonna be so goddamn good.” 

Josh nods in agreement. 

She kneads the dough out on the counter, instructing Josh to throw the cut up tomatoes in the bowl of spices, then asks if he can knead the dough or if it’ll hurt his shoulders too much. Josh just takes over without question and complaint, even if his shoulders ache too much. 

“Josh!” Dallon calls from the hallway. “Can you come here?” 

He looks to Hayley for permission, limping when she gives him a nod. Dallon’s near the bedroom door, arms crossed over his chest. 

“What’s up?” says Josh. 

“Look,” he says and points into the room. 

Josh’s nose crinkles, but he moves the few more feet to peer into the bedroom, finding nothing else different. He leans further in around the corner, around the door. “There’s nothing, Dallon.” 

He doesn’t have time to turn. 

Dallon wraps an arm around Josh’s throat, tight, cutting off his airway. Arms flailing and heartbeat spiking, he chokes out “Hayley!” but a needle pierces the side of his neck and his knees immediately weaken. 

 

_“Do you ever think about how you’re gonna die?”_

_Josh glances up at Tyler where he’s perched on a tree branch, picking off certain sized leaves. Josh himself is picking at the grass he sits on, but it’s out of boredom and frustration in this forced interaction. His tie is too tight around his neck, though he keeps it on for his mom and her reputation at the church._

_“Why’re you thinking about this, dude?” asks Josh._

_Tyler shrugs his shoulders, dropping a few leaves down to Josh’s lap, grinning at him. “Everyone’s thought about it. And I mean, the pastor was talking all about heaven today, but half of those people in there sin just by putting on their shirts.”_

_He sighs and tilts his chin up, squinting at the sunlight streaming through the trees and over Tyler’s head. “If I told you, my mom would find out somehow and she’d kill me.”_

_Scoffing, Tyler lands softly on the ground, wiping his hands on his pants._

 

Dallon lets his body collapse to the floor. 

 

_Tyler lies on his back next to Josh, crisp shirt untucking from his pants. “I wanna go out with a bang,” he says. “Dying from old age sounds stupid."_

_Josh snorts loudly and Tyler tosses a fist into his side because of it. “I’m glad you have your intentions figured out.”_

_“It’s not just my intentions, Josh. They’re my dreams, my pursuit of happiness or whatever other crap you wanna call it.” He tucks a hand under his head with a satisfied sigh. “I feel happy knowing one day my body will be with the stars— that I could reach thirty, be working a dead end job, have a wife that hates me, kids that barely talk to me while they play on their whatever generation xbox, and just like that, I’m going out with a bang!” Tyler huffs a laugh, eyelashes fluttering over his cheeks. “Yours is probably lame compared to mine.”_

_He smirks, glancing out to the parking lot where the rest of his family is, parents chatting up another family with their own beautiful kids. Josh figures Tyler and him are the outliers in their own families._

 

Josh is moved to the backseat of a car, while Hayley is screaming at Dallon. It’s unintelligible to his ears, but he knows a slap when he hears one, especially when she hits him back and calls him an asshole. 

 

_Tyler nudges him again. “You gonna tell me how you wanna die?”_

_He sighs, probably never gonna see the end of the tunnel unless he confesses, so he lies back against the tree trunk. “Wanna die on my twenty first birthday,” he mutters. “June 18, two thousand and whatever.”_

_“How?” His voice is confident, not hesitant, as if Tyler has face death head on multiple times and won._

_“A bus, maybe a roof top, I dunno.”_

_Tyler makes an affirmative noise. “Seems messy.”_

_He laughs loud enough to have his mom’s head swing around, smiling discreetly._

 

The edge of consciousness and consciousness has been completely eliminated and has revealed a whole new gray area. He doesn’t know what to call it, but it’s something he loves or hates. Y’know, gray area. 

 

_“Are you gonna be here next weekend?” asks Tyler._

_“Why?”_

_He shrugs. A grin is pulled on his lips. “Kinda like talking like this,” he mumbles. “My parents don’t like it and my therapist says it’s bad, but you don’t.”_

_Josh shrugs himself._

_His mother waves Josh over and he almost doesn’t want to go, but his tie is too tight and he’s afraid the hawk-like hearing his mom has obtained will kick in and he’ll be thrown in a psych ward for talking about his plans._

 

Whatever Dallon gave him, it really makes Josh crave water. It kinda hurts. 

But he’s lying on a soft patch of grass that hasn’t died from the cold air, so he supposes that’s alright with everything. Josh curls up on his side, tucking his head in the crook of his elbow, and shuts his eyes. 

 

_He’s there at church the next weekend, but Tyler isn’t._

_Neither are any of the other Joseph’s._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay a bit of a long note here.  
> my mental health has recently been kicking my fucking ass and i haven't been feelin the greatest. legit, this took me eight different tries to write this chapter and im still not happy with it. i definitely want to continue this, i have great plans for it, but update will be slower than i originally intended. i though being out of the stress of school and shit would help my health but it hasn't and its pretty fuckin annoying.  
> so im sorry this is such a shit chapter, but i like scheduling, and being more than a week for the next update really bothers me.  
> i am gonna make it up to you guys, next chapter is rlly gonna put some motion into this story (fluff soon since ive been lying the last few chapters)


	2. Old Homes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Acceptance is have the faith, despite the circumstances, that all is well."  
> -Anonymous

It’s a cell phone he never wanted to track down—remember, for that fact. The location is engrained in his hazy memory, and he went off several indistinguishable trees and walked down the wrong path three separate times before stumbling upon the tree stump with his initial engraved in the aging rings. For dire times, he was told, and he supposes this situation is dire enough. 

He buries the old lock box back in the soil, making it look as natural as possible, but gives up and decides he has been wandering around in the woods long enough and treks back to his parked car with the decade old phone tucked in his pocket. 

Driving home, the thing practically burns a hole in his pants, but he refuses to let it bother him. The possibility of the plan going to shit is another big problem he has; the phone could be dead—god knows where he can find a charger than fits—the thing is flat out broken, or whatever number is saved inside it could be disconnected. Six years is a long time to sit around and maybe be there to help some person with a situation. Of course, when Josh and his partner split, they never imagined a problem to be like this, where their catch has come back from hell. The partner agreed if police were involved or they were dying, that it was big enough for a phone call. 

Josh doesn’t want police involved any time soon, but he wants to prepare for the worst. 

Debby isn’t at the apartment when he gets home, so he rushes to his room, locking the door behind him. Twenty five years old and he’s scared out of his wits to make a phone call. He scoffs at it, just staring at the piece of plastic lying on his desk. Seemingly in perfect condition, he might add. 

Finally, it gets to be later and later, so he sighs and turns the damn thing on. Changes out of his jeans as he lets it warm up and fixes up his hair in the reflection from his iphone. God, he scoffs at himself for how stupid and nervous he is. 

The first three calls go to voicemail, but at least Josh knows it’s working. Now, it’s just all about who’s voice is gonna be heard on the other side. 

He flops on his bed. His heartrate is back to normal, just due to the adrenaline wearing off. Ever since his mom called two days ago, he’s been nonstop moving, barely sleeping or eating. Two days, and he feels like his body is wearing down. He’s reverting back to his high school days where he didn’t give a shit about his health or his appearance, but it also is fitting, seeing as he is about to go back home, to his childhood house, to see a friend from high school. Debby will scold him, for sure, but for now, he’s fine going without a shower for two days and sleeping maybe four or five hours in the past forty eight. 

Josh holds his breath when the ringing stops and a rustling sound erupts in his ear. A few more seconds pass, with his heart lodged in his throat, pulse thrumming in his ears before a rough, “Who’s calling?” startles him. 

“Uh, uh,” Josh stumbles. “7257.” 

The voice quiets, the intense concentration from the man felt by Josh through the phone. “Dun?” he says. 

He sighs, chuckling at the strung feeling pulling at his nerves and heart, swiping at some loose curls over his forehead. “Yeah, it’s Dun. We’ve got a problem.” 

The other scoffs incredulously. “Six years and you still remembered this phone? I told you, _you_ had to have a problem; leave me out—” 

“Tyler Joseph was found,” Josh interrupts. “Found alive.” 

“That’s… impossible. How do you know?” 

“My mother called me two days ago, said Joseph’s mom called her,” he explains. His eyebrows furrow. “He only wants to talk to me. Won’t speak to anyone else.” 

“Why you?” he says. 

Josh shrugs, mostly for himself to assure he is clueless in this situation. “I dunno. We were friends—well, y’know—but it doesn’t make sense.” 

“Are you…” He trails off, clearing his throat. “Are you worried he knows you had something to do with it?” 

“No.” He stomps to his feet, head growing heavy on his neck. “No, I won’t even try to think about that. We had masks, I didn’t talk. Hell, I didn’t even fucking know it was Joseph until the end!” 

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry for asking. You just sound really worried.” 

Truth be told, he is. He’s stricken with anxiety and fear of the unknown. But he won’t admit it with his own tongue and teeth. “I just… want to get this over with. See what the kid wants and come back home to my life. I left that job forever ago, we both did, and I don’t want to think about that part ever again.” 

His old partner hums softly, a way of his nodding over the speaker. “Dun, there was no way Joseph knew it was you. Maybe he doesn’t have his memory from the past six years and he wants an old friend.” 

“I wasn’t even his best friend.” 

“Hey, don’t ask me. Missing for six years probably does bad things to your head.” 

He chuckles, but it burns. “I’m gonna try to fix this.” 

He hums again, probably smiling at Josh’s stupidity. “Don’t call again unless you’re in a cell, alright?” 

“As if you’d be my one call.” 

The response is a dead line, and Josh sighs. 

(*)  
He was never a great flier, always had to have some kind of anxiety medication or sleeping pills to make him comfortable in the giant metal contraption. This time, he stuffs his stomach full of anxiety meds, but can’t seem to shake the vibrating feeling throughout his body. Debby is curled up in his side, running a hand down his arm, coasting over his shoulders, and down his spine. Her thin and warm fingers follow the same path for quite some time, and Josh ends up dozing off. 

Debby is only staying three days and Josh hopes he can go home with her, but the little updates his mom has been sending tell him otherwise. The quicker he can get back to Seattle, the faster he can forget this whole thing is happening. Going in set on leaving as soon as possible is bad; he knows his high hopes will be crushed to dust when the police need to send him through the wringer or he has to push Tyler into talking. Six years is so much to cover. Josh isn’t sure how his body is going to hold up against a tidal wave of memories and guilt and anger and regret. 

The mix of emotions running through him is just beating him to particles. Worst thing about it, he has to keep it bottled up. Debby won’t understand, his family will be disappointed, and he will be convicted. Josh’s name would be plastered across newspapers and TV news stations and that freaks him the fuck out. 

Josh’s mom picks the two up from the airport and gives Josh the longest and tightest hug he’s ever received, but honestly, he needs it. He really, really needs it. 

The ride home, his mom makes small talk with Debby in the front of the car, catching up since it’s been about three years since they’ve seen each other. He only mumbles a few things here and there, barely contributing to the clamoring noise of Debby, his mom, and the soft radio. Ashley is brought up, but even then, he can’t bring his voice up enough to fully understand it. 

He’s teetering on the edge of a cliff, fingers slipping, knees shaking. Has been in this state of mind before, but he doesn’t know when it’ll end, just like his childhood. Food and drink don’t sound appealing, sheets are enough to warm his numb skin, and his measure of time is askew. The clock moves too quickly when he needs it to stop, but crawls when he wants it to soar. 

At home, his dad and brother, Jordan, are standing on the house’s porch, shivering out in the chilled air. They greet Josh and Debby quietly, a stark contrast to his mom, but he’s sure everything will pick up when the whole reason for the trip is brought up. 

They eat lunch in the dining room in an almost suffocating silence, one that Josh both loves and despises at the same time. His brother keeps giving him weird glances and he feels his stomach tumble at each and every brush of eyesight over him. It’s gets to a point where he can’t bring him to eat any more food. 

“So, Josh,” his mom says. “Mrs. Joseph is wondering if you’ll go over to the house tonight. You don’t have to, of course, but I have to let her know.” 

Josh gives Debby a glance. “Might as well,” he says. “I just wanna shower first, try to wrap my head around this whole… thing, I guess.” 

“Honey, you don’t have to overthink this. Just pretend what happened to Tyler didn’t happen and just talk to him. I’m sure he wants his friend back.” 

He gulps hard, eyes welling. His teeth sink into the insides of his cheeks, so he nods his head hastily, and excuses himself to the upstairs, where his old room is, where his sibling’s rooms are, and where he got this job that started it. Debby follows him up with their suitcases, letting him cry on her shoulder for a few minutes. She sighs, whispering sweet words to him, helping him start the shower and get dressed into the nicest outfit she packed for him. He is still numb, but the slightest bit calmer from her help. 

“Thank you,” he breathes. 

She smiles, fixing his hair and collar of his shirt. “You’ve had some rough days. You deserve a break, and I’ll make sure you get one soon.” 

Josh and his mom walk over to the Joseph’s house, about two blocks away from his, and can hear some familiar voices as they enter. The house is warm and lighted well, with family photos on the wall. He follows the family pictures from when the family was young, to when Tyler went missing, and even some pictures been that six year period. Josh wonders if anything will update soon. 

The woman who lets them in is tired looking, leftover makeup staining her under eyes. Still, she gives a bright smile and shakes Josh’s hand. “I’m Kelly,” she says. “Tyler’s mom. I’m so happy that you made the trip out here.” 

Josh tries to return the smile, but it comes out as a grimace and he winces internally. “It’s, um-- I’m glad he’s alive,” he says softly. 

She nods her head, waving them to the kitchen of the house, where there are more bodies he somehow recognizes, but can’t put names to them. “This is my husband,” she says about a man sitting at the dining room table, “and my other kids.” 

The other eyes scan over him and he nervously chews at his lip. The siblings resemble Tyler in some way, shape, or form, but an older façade of him. 

“I’m, uh, I’m Josh,” he stutters. 

They all nod understandably. 

“Is… is Tyler here or…?” 

Mrs. Joseph perks up again. “I’ll show you his room.” 

He expects her to take him to a staircase he noticed while walking in, but he trails behind her to the basement door. Josh can hear piano cords string out in soft procession. He remembers how nimble his fingers were, how they twitched on the tops of keys and school desks. He wishes he would’ve been able to hear something six years ago. 

“We’ll be up here,” she says, and leaves him to force himself down the steps. 

He stands, takes a deep breath, and opens the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new chapter when i shouldve been doing homework, but that's okay.  
> the response i have been getting is absolutely INCREDIBLE and i can't express my happiness through these few words. i appreciate every single comment and kudo. it's flipping amazing thank you all  
> for now, this is kinda a filler, but next is finally going to reveal some big secret


	3. Waxed Tiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out."  
> -Walter Winchell

Josh loves his mom, but sometimes she can be a bit overwhelming. 

Just like any other mother, Josh’s mom makes sure her son is okay, prods him until he tells the truth, but it’s always “My back hurts” “I’m thirsty” “Where’s Debby?” “Mom, can I call Tyler?” The last one hasn’t be fulfilled yet. 

Mrs. Joseph hasn’t allowed any contact between the two of them, specifically telling Josh that Tyler’s health has deteriorated ever since he went into Josh’s care. Almost everyone has refuted that, even Jenna, who’s been on speaker phone with Josh, Debby, and Josh’s mom while they speak with Tyler’s parents. None of those conversations have helped Josh, only been to point out his mistakes, his faults, and his past grievances. Even his past mental health issues that apparently have been discussed between Tyler’s parents and Josh’s parents as a dinner conversation. Josh didn’t speak to his mom for two days after that. 

Debby refuses to let Josh sleep alone, eat alone, leave the house alone. It's been Debby Debby Debby or Mom Mom Mom, and as much as it can become a bother, he cherishes the moments he has with Debby. He always hugs her close and tells her how much he loves her. His mom has been sending him photos of them passed out on the couch, tangled limbs and open mouths. 

He received a text last night for the first time in a week in a half that hadn’t been Debby or his mom or his brother. He thought it was Tyler; he got so goddamn excited, but when he saw it was Ashley, a lump was in his throat. Of course, he should’ve seen it coming, knew the day she broke things off would come. There wasn’t much to the relationship besides sex and maybe a date or two here and there, but the last time they saw a movie together or went to dinner was before Tyler came into the picture. Debby may or may not have told her he and Tyler kissed and even though there weren’t a conventional couple, she was still a little hurt. In the end, they’re still friends and they’re gonna get drinks soon, but there’s not a chance they’ll date until Josh figures out what he’s doing with his responsibilities. 

“Mom, I’m tired, I wanna sleep,” Josh complains. 

“You slept all day, hon, you need to get some fresh air.” She pulls open his blinds, revealing that light post he still to this day hates with every fiber of his being. Sunlight hits his eyes harshly, the setting sun burning his pupils. “Up, up, up. Get dressed and be out in ten minutes.” 

“Mom,” he groans into his pillow, but she’s ignoring everything coming out of his mouth. 

He lies for another two minutes, searching the walls as if they’ll be able to help him call a raincheck, but they just stare back at him, turning against him and caving in. 

Dressed in a few more minutes, he drags himself down to the living room where his mom is standing and waiting with his winter coat in her hands, a small smile on her lips. He sighs loudly, secretly hoping she’ll forget about whatever is planned seeing her son is in the midst of an emotional crisis, but she hands over the coat and ushers him out of the apartment. 

He doesn’t pay much attention in the car. The streets aren’t too busy, but they’re filled with advertisements of Christmas sales and gift ideas and decorations. Josh hasn’t thought about Christmas; Thanksgiving hasn’t happened yet and Debby hasn’t been bothering him about hanging ornaments on a small tree or wrapping tinsel around the refrigerator door’s handle. 

“Honey, I don’t think I’ve seen you smile the entire time I’ve been here,” his mom says. 

They’re at a red light, centered in a sea of waiting cars. A woman to Josh’s right nods her head to whatever song on the radio and a man to his left is tying his striped tie in his beat up minivan. He swallows another growing sigh. “My back just hurts, Mom. It’s nothing to worry about.” 

“I’ve known you your whole life, hon, I know when you’re lying.” 

Of course; he really thought that dumb lie would keep passing? “I’m… what if Tyler’s mom is right about everything? That I’m not capable of taking care of anyone?” 

“Do you agree with her?” 

He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s kinda why I asked you.” 

“Well,” she exhales, “I don’t agree. Of course I don’t agree, Josh, but Tyler’s mom doesn’t know you personally and doesn’t know what you are capable of. She sees what she wants to and has her mind set on certain things. It’s okay to be perceived like that by people who barely know you; it doesn’t make you less of what you are.” 

As much as he wants to believe her, he’s let down the one person he needed to help the most. Now Tyler is in some hospital a couple hundred miles away while Josh complains about his spine hurting. “It still hurts.” 

“I know,” she whispers, squeezing his knee. “But it’ll be okay.”

“How do you know?” he asks innocently.

Her lips press together in a thin line. “I don’t know for sure.” She then sighs and turns down the radio. “Alright, this was supposed to be a surprise, but Debby has been talking to Jenna and they’ve both agreed that you and Tyler are adults and if you want to see each other, you can. Tyler’s mom can’t stop that from happening.” 

“So…” Josh wrings his hands together. “We’re going to Ohio?” 

His mom nods her head. 

Whatever she says next is lost in the echo of his head. His heart is racing, stomach churning, and he swears he could lean over and throw up right this instant, but he doesn’t; he has to hold himself together. 

(*)

“She doesn’t know you’re coming.” 

Jenna hands him a warm cup of coffee as she steps up to the passenger window, sweater folded over her chest and stomach. It’s close to two in the morning; they landed about an hour ago, stopped at Josh’s parent’s house for a quick hello and to drop off their suitcases, and now they’re parked at the hospital. Debby and Josh can agree that they’re both exhausted. 

“What time do I have to be out of here?” he asks.

“By nine. I’ll be here around eight to make sure you’re either gone or leaving.” Jenna pops open the door for him. “Tyler’s medicated right now, so he probably won’t wake up at all tonight, but I thought it’d be nice for him to see you in the morning.” 

“Debby said he hasn’t been feeling good.”

She scoffs as they trade spots, her tired form slumping in his dad’s car’s seat. “That’s an understatement. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

After they drive off, Josh enters through the hospital, hit with the smell of cleaning supplies and gloves and scratchy sheets. He’s blanketed in a severe silence and every step sounds like a sonic boom across the carpeted floor. His body shivers as he makes his way up to the third floor, room 311. There’s a sign about a timid patient and to always announce an entrance for safety. Josh wonders if Tyler has seen this. 

He pokes his head into the room, finding the lights turned down low, shades drawn. A nurse is actually inside and she’s pressing buttons on the heart monitor, checking IVs stuck in the inside of Tyler’s elbow and the back of his hand. Tyler’s face is casted by a shadow, but he’s curled in on himself, tucked close to the right side of the bed and hands fisted by his stomach. He looks so small curled up like that, folded in on himself. Josh grazes a finger over one of Tyler’s knees, sighing at the warm skin under his fingertips. 

“Are you Josh?” she asks quietly. 

He nods, unable to speak around the rock in his throat. The coffee he has is sudden something he doesn’t want to taste. 

“You can sit on this side if you want.”

He taps on the side of the paper cup. “Can I… can I sit in the bed… with him?” 

She glances at Tyler, then the space behind his back. “Watch the IVs, okay?”

His knees weaken in relief. “Thank you.” 

She gives a warm smile as she exits past him, muttering a goodnight to him. Another second passes of Josh trying to swallow his heart back to its rightful place. He ditches the coffee on the bedside tray table and slowly slides himself to the edge of the bed. It dips with his added weight and he’s sure to throw the tubing over his hip, settling close to Tyler’s back. Tyler doesn’t move or twitch, just breathes deeply with his induced sleep. The back of his hair is matted to his head, stuck up at odd angles and spots, so Josh gently combs through it.

Josh doesn’t know what really sets off his crying, but he’s biting back heavy sobs as tears streak down his face. It could be the never ending beeping machines, or the tubes strew over him and Tyler, the way Tyler is curled up, or the way his skin feels dry and dead. 

It’s all so overwhelming to him. Just three weeks ago, he was happy and smiling and playing his piano. With Josh’s stupid decisions, Tyler is now reduced to a small form on a hospital bed. 

And god, he’s not even supposed to be here. 

If his mom were to find out, Josh would practically be crucified on the Joseph’s dining room table. Mrs. Joseph always made a point to tell Josh he were to not speak to Tyler at this time, see him until he got better, until he got help. Josh still can’t wrap his head around the fact he’s heard those words from her mouth. In Josh’s honest opinion, she’s blind to every single bit of progress Tyler had made with Josh at his side. It’s not a lot—he still stutters, still has nightmares, doesn’t eat normally, doesn’t act like a “normal” person. Who can blame him? Two and a half months ago, he was chained up in some dark room with needle upon needle injecting him with all sorts of drugs and chemicals.

Josh doesn’t sleep at all. He nurses the cold coffee all morning until sun peeks over the bottom of the window sill and the same nurse from when he came in comes back with a new coffee for him. His whole side is asleep, but he chooses to stay, awaiting for Tyler to move even though the nurse said it’ll still be a while. In the meantime, the nurse turns on the news for Josh for some kind of connection to the outside world. She tells him that time is lost all too easily in these halls. 

He still doesn’t pay attention, but forces his eyelids to keep blinking, to keep him awake. The new coffee is shitty coffee, and he definitely decides he will be taking a nap when he gets back to his parent’s. 

Tyler does start to twitch a few minutes later, eyes moving rapidly behind his closed eyelids. Josh sits up and takes Tyler’s closed fist in between both of his hands, rubbing over his knuckles with his thumb. A chunk of air in his throat, Josh waits rather restlessly, bottom lip sucked between his teeth, breathing staggered. 

“Tyler?” Josh whispers. 

He inhales sharply at his name, drawing his hand away from Josh’s grasp to rub at his nose. 

“Tyler, are you awake? It’s Josh.”

He groans, low, eyes squeezing together before he opens them fully. “Wh…” His eyes snap from the wall to Josh, jaw dropping open. “’oshie-ie?” 

He smiles, but it drops off from his lips at the teary eyed friend sitting in front of him. “Hey, no don’t cry, it’s okay.” Tyler shoves himself in Josh’s lap and grips him like never before, fingernails almost drawing blood. “Shh, I’m here, I’m here, it’s okay.” 

“Y’d-did’t—” Tyler heaves air through his mouth. “Y’lef’ me.” 

“Ty, no, no, I— What’d your mom tell you?” 

He sniffs, bats at tears. “Tha-at y’did’t w-wan’ t’ be ‘ere. Y’tol’ h-her I was t-too m’ch t’ take ca-are of.” 

Josh holds Tyler close and tight, pressing his forehead to Tyler’s clavicle. “No, god, I never told her that,” he whispers. “I wasn’t allowed to see you; you’re mom doesn’t know I’m here.” 

“Wha’?” He shuffles back and Josh is able to see the extent of what theses weeks have done to him. The bags under his eyes are darker and deeper, eye color itself duller. His skin has a sort of gray color to it and lacks the lively glow it had whenever he played his piano or laughed at a movie. “Y’c’ldn’t s-see me?” 

“I can’t see you still. Your mom’ll probably behead me if she knew I was here.” 

Tyler sighs and rubs his forehead. “She li-lied t’ me.” 

“It’s okay. I mean it’s not. Not okay that she lied to you.” Josh sighs and scratches at his neck. “I wanted to agree with her, but when Jenna told Debby that you were in the hospital, I knew your mom was wrong to do this.” 

Tyler blinks, fingers curling in and out repeatedly, so Josh slips his hand in the closing fist, getting a stilling response and a slight hum. 

“I’m sorry you’re here,” says Josh, thumb rubbing over a band-aid on his hand. “It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have—”

A finger is pressed to his mouth. “S’n-not y’fault.” 

“I should’ve taken care of you better. Tyler, someone broke in the apartment and… goddamn it, I need to be better.” 

“Y’are, y’are, I pr’mise.”

Josh shakes his head, but Tyler cups the side of his face and rests his forehead against Josh’s temple. It’s a simple gesture, a simple touch, except it fills Josh’s stomach and chest with warm butterflies. He feels as though he is stuck in some movie, some tumbling torment of pain without a light at the end of the tunnel. Tyler plants soft kisses along Josh’s cheek and the corner of his mouth, sighing through his nose. Tyler’s eyelashes flutter across Josh’s skin when he blinks, but that’s not all too often. 

“I-if y’tir’d, sleep,” whispers Tyler. 

“I don’t want to spend this time asleep.” Josh turns his head just enough where he can look Tyler in the eye and be able to see a warmth thread through his pupils. He gently touches his thumb to Tyler’s bottom lip and drags it down his chin and jaw, watching Tyler’s shoulders sag. “Can I kiss you?” 

His eyes open, innocent and startled, but leans forward and pecks Josh’s lips. “Yes,” he whispers. 

When he says he drowns, it’s not with water anymore. Tyler’s lips are chapped against Josh’s, but his motions are soft, somewhat hesitant. He gains confidence when his hands find a home on the sides of Josh’s neck, fingertips twisting through the loose pieces of hair sitting at the nape. Tyler hums, laughs into Josh’s mouth, and Josh swallows that before he can lose it. 

Tyler moves a hand up Josh’s waist, but suddenly winces and jerks back, tugging at an IV stuck under Josh’s knee. “Shi-shit,” he whispers, tapering off into a small laugh, smiles against Josh’s cheek. 

“I’m sorry—”

“S’fine. The-ey’ll be g’ne soon ‘nd we w-will be ba-ack in Seattle ‘nd ‘way fr’m this.” 

His heart stutters, but because he’s scared of a mother’s wrath, a mother’s fear of losing her son. Josh knows how hard it was for his own mom to let him move practically across the country, but with Tyler’s mom, it’s a whole new fear. Instead of thinking her son won’t find a job, won’t take care of himself, won’t be happy, she thinks he’ll go missing again, he’ll get hurt, he’ll get killed. Tyler’s blind to the extreme concern, ready to live his life to whatever capacity he is allowed. Here in Ohio, there isn’t much, and Josh can agree. But he wants Tyler to have a mother that trusts him, that loves him, because he can’t imagine living without his own. 

Josh lies back on the bed, arms open to Tyler. Tyler grins sheepishly and falls close to Josh, one arm over Josh’s waist and the other hooked around his neck. They both sigh and shut their eyes, listening to their breathing deepen and steady out.

(*)

Upon another arrival to Tyler’s hospital room, it’s stark quiet, as if Josh is wearing headphones over his ears. Everyone seems to be moving slower, more cautiously, but it could just be the fact it’s close to ten pm and everyone is tiring out. 

When he turns the corner for Tyler’s room, he almost runs into a woman and he opens his mouth to form an apology, but that woman has a glare of knives and Josh almost chokes. 

“M-Mrs. Joseph, I—”

“Save it, please, Josh,” she says, tone sharper than her glare. “Follow me.” 

He pauses, joints thick with cement. He could say no, just not listen to her and walk into Tyler’s room without a care for her judgement, but Josh isn’t that type to disobey, even if he isn’t a kid anymore. 

The walk to the cafeteria is tense and quiet. Josh keeps his head hung low, hands twisted in his sweatshirt pocket. Mrs. Joseph doesn’t glance at Josh, so much as talk to him. They sit in a corner of the cafeteria, far from where anyone could hear them if many people were sitting. He swallows hard and takes the seat across from Tyler’s mom, awaiting his imminent death. 

“I’ll give you two minutes to explain to me why you’re here,” says Mrs. Joseph, eyes narrowing and arms crossing over her chest. 

Josh chokes slightly. “Jenna and Debby had planned this, s-since Ty-Tyler was in the hospital. I didn’t know about it until I was pretty much at the airport, and-and by then I couldn’t disagree with them. I-I know you didn’t want me here and I wanted to respect your wishes, I really d-did, but Jenna told me that he actually ate today and talked to the nurses and I don’t want to say it was only because of me—”

He cuts himself off, face hot and hands shaky. His heart is racing and threatens to burst out of his rib cage. The look on Mrs. Joseph’s face doesn’t help; it makes him shudder internally and bile creep up the back of his throat. 

“Josh, I want Tyler to have someone to talk to like he talks to you,” Mrs. Joseph start softly, which throws Josh for a loop. “But he needs constant care and not someone who will disappear for days on end, who won’t have their apartment broken into and tricked into thinking he left, who has be unstable in the past, and who has had suicidal tendencies.” 

He honestly wants to cry, scream, and throw up all at the same time. That was a part of his life that feels like it was so long ago, but can be argued is still going on. He takes risks more than a stable person should, hasn’t been able to take care of himself up to Mrs. Joseph’s set par. For god’s sake, he couldn’t even bring enough strength to his arm to feed himself while staying with Dallon and Hayley. 

“That w-was in the past,” he tries. His heart keeps racing. “I am better now and yes, the apartment being broken into and me disappearing was my fault, but it’s not gonna happen again.” 

“How can you ensure that?” 

“How can you?” he says, probably a little too harsh. “Your house has as much of a potential to be broken into just as much as mine. Sure, disappearing for a week is different, but I figured—” 

“Tell me where you went.” 

Josh’s mouth falls open. “What?” 

“Why did you disappear?” 

They would ask, Josh knew that, but why didn’t he create a story that didn’t involve illegal activity? How couldn’t he do that in the two weeks of almost absolute silence?

“I-I was walking to my ex’s house,” he begins, tongue thick with a lie, “and I just all of a sudden was on the ground. I don’t know who they were, what they wanted, but they held me for a week and just let me go. I wish I could tell you more, but I don’t know more.” 

She knows he’s lying; her eyes are sharp, bored, annoyed, and he shrinks further into his chair. “What has happened these past few weeks has not been fair to Tyler, do you agree?” 

Josh nods his head. 

“And you understand the instability you are experiencing is not what Tyler needs, correct?”

“Correct,” he rasps. 

“You and Tyler have been friends in the past, but I don’t know you like I know Mark or Jenna; they are people that can support Tyler and help him get past this. I’m sorry, but you can’t do what others can. Your past worries me too much.” 

His heart is breaking bit by bit, crumbling to tiny specs or dust that are whisked away with a single breath. Nothing should hurt this much, he figures, but it does and his vision is blurring. 

“I’ll let you two say goodbye to each other,” she says.

He bites on his bottom lip, nodding mechanically. 

She’s right. He’s not fit to take care of anyone, anything, even himself. He can’t trick himself into believing what his mom or Debby or Jenna tell him. Tyler deserves to be in a stable environment where he can blossom and become the person he was meant to be. Josh isn’t a good influence on any part of Tyler, and he should’ve never said yes to housing him; it would’ve saved everyone pain and grievances. 

Mrs. Joseph takes him back to Tyler’s room, shoes squeaking on the freshly waxed floor. He shakes, back aching, fingers numb, mind reeling. Josh doesn’t know if he’s properly breathing, but his heart rate is through the roof. Along the way, he shakily texts Debby to pick him up in twenty minutes, ignoring every typo his fingers make. 

“Don’t take too long,” Tyler’s mom says as they approach the door. “He has to sleep soon.”

She rests against the wall, arms crossed, as Josh walks in. Tyler is scrolling through TV channels as he sits in the hospital bed, legs folded underneath his body. At the sight of Josh, a smile creeps up on his lips and the remote is set off to the side. The door shuts, and Josh battles the rock in his throat. A tight smile appears on his lips and he does his best not to start crying, biting into his bottom lip until it bleeds. 

But Tyler notices and his smile falls, eyes aging with his deep concern. “J-Joshie, wha’s wr’ng?” 

“I, um…” Josh sits down next to Tyler, noticing three of his IVs are gone and he smells like body wash and his face doesn’t look so gray. “Your mom and I talked—”

He cuts off at Tyler’s tiny cry, finding Tyler’s hand and squeezing it. There’s a small pull back with it, but he chooses to ignore it.

“I can’t see you anymore, Ty,” he whispers, cheeks becoming wet. “Your mom said you can’t come back to Seattle with me, can’t have you in my care.” 

“No, ple-ease.” Tyler sobs into his hand, tears springing to his eyes. He burrows his face in Josh’s neck and wraps his arms around Josh’s waist. “P-please d-don’t _go-o-o_.” 

Josh shudders, running soft fingers through Tyler’s hand, over his scalp and down his spine, where he can feel the bones pressing against his skin. “I hafta. But you’ll be okay. People are gonna take care of you better than I can, okay? I promise you’ll be better soon.”

He just cries in Josh’s neck, trembling as he holds himself close to Josh’s numb chest and broken heart. The rock has grown, putting pressure on the inside of his esophagus, threatening to rip open and have him bleed out. That would hurt less, he supposes, than having his soul crushed inside of his stomach. 

There are a lot of things that hurt less than this. 

Those things consist of everything. 

He knows that time will pass and people will say it gets better, easier, happier, but the tiniest thought of happiness makes Josh want to hurl. He didn’t know how much he needed Tyler until he was stuck lying on his stomach and being spoon-fed. Missed the way Tyler played piano, tugged on his own hair and hat, laid softly on his chest at night, hummed to every song he knew on the radio, insulted Josh’s coffee choice, smiled at the grocery store and didn’t care about his stutter, how fascinated he was by old photos of Josh and Debby and a few others friends. Josh thought he would get that back the moment Dallon shoved that needle in his neck, but he went home to a relieved mom and Debby and an empty bed. 

That’s being ripped from him, like four horses are tied to his limbs and pointed in opposite directions. He thought time, energy, and his ex-partner were enemies, but all of that was affected by his mistake.

He so dearly wishes he could go back and correct his fatal mistake six years ago. 

He didn’t miss Tyler after high school. He didn’t miss anyone after he escaped that godforsaken place. Now he feels as though he should’ve missed people, because some of them might be living in an unhappy marriage, some might be addicted to drugs or alcohol or sex or all three. Some might be working a dead end job, sad and angry at the world, drowning under the debt their college put over them. Some might be missing, some might be dead. Some might need a helping hand, and Josh isn’t there for them. 

He kisses the top of Tyler’s head, mumbling “I’m sorry” over and over again as he rock the both of them slightly. Tyler’s grip tightens. 

Josh’s phone buzzes a time later, a time that feels like years, but he flinches and drags it out of his pocket. 

Debs: _im here_

He sighs, cheek resting against Tyler’s forehead. “Ty,” he breathes. 

“N-no, y’can’t go,” he whimpers. “’ll ne-never see y’ag’n.”

“You will, I promise. You have to get better first and I know Jenna and Mark and your family will be there more than me. It’s all gonna be okay.” 

Josh tries to move, but Tyler clutches him still, an iron strong grip around him. 

“Ty, please, I don’t wanna go either, but I’m gonna get in trouble if I don’t.” 

He slides to his feet and Tyler still holds him close. “Pl-ple-ease!” he weeps, chin stuck in Josh’s rib cage, face red and tear stained. “Pl-ease sta-ay.”

Tyler looks so lost already and Josh hasn’t even stepped out of the room. His heart tells him to stay, to curl up next to Tyler and sleep, but he can practically hear Mrs. Joseph tapping her toes on the tiled floor. “I can’t, I’m sorry.”

He swiftly kisses Tyler, lips pressing together messily. Turning, Tyler shrieks something that could break mirrors and snatches at the hem of his sweatshirt, yanking Josh towards him, all with large tears running down his face. Josh’s chest caves inwards and he aches all, all over his body; so, so many of his muscles and bones are in pain. 

“Tyler, I’m sorry, I-I hafta go.” 

Nurses have to come in to help calm Tyler down and pry him away from Josh. He screams all the way through the ordeal, eyes wide and scared as he reaches for Josh, only stopping when a sedative is injected into his IV and his wrists are strapped down with padded cuffs. The nurse he met last night gives Josh a sympathetic look as he takes one last glance at Tyler. 

His hair is messy and sweaty, face puffy and red, but his eyes are shut and his mouth is slacked, even if it is caused by an injection. 

Josh wipes his own his face, taking off his hat and handing it to that sympathetic nurse. 

“Make sure he gets that,” he whispers, only moving when she nods her head. 

Out he goes, out to the hallway where heads are poking out of their own hospital rooms, curious as to where the screaming was coming from. Mrs. Joseph is on the verge of tears, back against the opposite wall, mascara smeared on her cheeks. She opens her mouth when she sees Josh, but he growls in the back of his throat. 

“I hope you’re happy,” he snarls.

He calls Debby in the elevator, crying, barely able to stand anymore. Josh’s mom and Debby find him in the entrance of the hospital, rushing to his aid when they see the tears and hear his lungs cracking. 

“Shh, honey, it’s okay,” she coos, cradling his head against her shoulder. “It’s okay.” 

“No, no, it’s not, Mama. I-I can’t s-see Tyler any-anymore.” 

“Hon, of course you can—”

He shakes his head. “His mom knows I-I’m here and t-told me to say goodbye to h-him.”

His mom sighs, shoulders sagging. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “Let’s go home and rest, you need a break.”

Debby hugs him all the way back to his parent’s house, rubbing his back and wiping away stray tears, kissing his cheek softly and telling him it’ll be okay. He doesn’t respond, just leans on her shoulder and sniffs quietly in the back seat of his dad’s car. 

“We’ll figure something, J,” she says, and he knows it’s just for reassurance, not an actual promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like ive been gone longer than i actually have  
> i dont know when ill update next, but i hope it doesnt take as long as this one


End file.
